


Velveteen Winchesters.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Already such a proud young man, Baby Sam Winchester, Baby Winchesters (Supernatural), Gen, Schmoop, Soppy, Tiny Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Warmth and wonder in their own private universe.





	Velveteen Winchesters.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kazluvsbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazluvsbooks/gifts).



> I asked kazluvsbooks if she'd like anything for her birthday arting or ficcage wise, she requested Wee Baby Sammy. A drabble, this is totally longer than a drabble (which is why this was at beta, hun, lol. I bet you looked at my message like, WTH?!) Thank you to jj1564 for my wonderful beta. I didn't realise how much I would enjoy writing me some Wee!Winchester!Adorable-Boys. Thanks Kaz for the chance to stretch my Gen wings. Hope you like it bb xx

Dean sits in the back of the Impala, book open on his lap, reading aloud to Sam, whose fingers keep making not so stealthy grabs for the ratty tatty thrift store find, with its dog eared pages and crumbling spine.

Dean can always be relied upon to not only occupy Sam, but keep him so well entertained John loathes separating them, even for something as important as sleep.

John thinks if Dean’s slightly bowed legs were strong enough, he’d carry Sam about like a Mother chimp and her baby - little arms latched around Dean’s neck as he trundles along keeping up a continuous stream of chatter about the weather, the places they pass through, the people they meet.

John is beyond grateful for Dean’s attentiveness when it comes to his brother, even if some days he looks at his two boys and feels such shame for having to rely so heavily on his oldest child, but then he hears Sam’s gurgling laughter and knows no matter what happens to him out there in the dark, Sam will always be looked after and loved.

In all honesty that’s the only thing the parent of siblings wants or needs; to know they have each other.

Some nights when John’s eyes are drooping and his back feels like it’s breaking, the only thing that keeps him sane - if the true meaning behind the word still applies - is the sound of Dean’s voice stumbling over the faded words on the falling apart pages of their favourite book, and Sam’s answering murmurs and mumbles.

Sam isn’t talking yet, not really, but that doesn’t stop Dean answering the seemingly incoherent babbling sounds as they spring from Sam’s ever animated mouth and John wonders, seriously wonders, if they’ve already developed a language all their own.

Dean flicks a page and takes a breath before continuing on with the story he’s read so many times. “ _Does it happen all at once, like being wound up, he asked, or_ \- Sammy, quit it - _bit by bit?_ “

Sam’s pudgy fingers reach for the book and he blows a spit bubble at Dean. “D-D-D.”

Dean shakes his head and smiles at Sam before carrying on, “ _It doesn't happen all at once, said the Skin Horse. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby._ ”

Dean stops, stares at the words on the page, then looks up at the back of his father’s head. “Dad, they sound like those things you keep chasin’.”

John peers into the rearview mirror and grins at his son. “I ‘spose they do, Dean, I ‘spose they do. Except those fallin’ apart things are meant to be loved. I wouldn’t try huggin’ the things I chase, like they do in the story.”

Dean’s face becomes serious for a second as he nods once and makes eye contact with his father, in the mirror. “Yes sir.”

Sam’s tiny hands slap down on top of the book, shaking loose another stitch in the spine, and Dean’s face is suddenly free from any and all serious thoughts. “Sorry, Sammy, where was I? Oh yeah - _But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand._ ”

As Dean’s voice fills the Impala with a world away from monsters and mayhem and Mary’s loss, John smiles and goes back to imagining a warm welcoming bed and a nice ice cold beer.

Despite his aching feet and twinging shoulders, John considers driving for a little while longer, just so Dean can finish the chapter and they can both hear Sam’s happy giggles.

“D-D-D-Deeeeeeen.”

The Impala’s back end almost kicks out as John whips his head around to stare at his son.

Throttling through the gears, John pulls onto the side of the highway, pumps the breaks and kills the engine before spinning in his seat, with a smile on his face that could quite easily light up the rapidly darkening sky outside the car.

Dean’s eyes are wide, his mouth is open in an ‘o’ of surprise, and he’s gripping Sam’s squishy little hands tightly. “Dad, Dad, did you hear him?”

John flings open his door and clambers into the backseat next to his sons. “Yeah, Dean, I did,” reaching out, John strokes Sam’s hair and beams down at him whilst gripping Dean’s shoulder with his other hand. “Come on Sammy, say it again.”

Sam stares up at his father and his brother like they’re made of stardust, then burbles, screwing up his up eyes in concentration. “D-D-DEEEEEEEEEEEN!”

Dean’s proud laughter, and Sam’s continuous repeating of his big brother’s name float into the air and surround John in a bubble of warmth he rarely feels these days.

“DeeeeenDeeeenDeeeen.”

As Sam and Dean giggle in the back seat, book laying forgotten, for now, in the footwell, John reaches out and hugs both his boys tight to his chest before dropping a gentle kiss onto their upturned cheeks.

Eventually John realises it’s way past all of their bedtimes, and reluctantly climbs back into the front seat.

The engine purrs to life and John tries not to feel ever so slightly wounded by his youngest son’s first word, because from the second he handed Sam to Dean and told him to run, the Hunter knew they would stick together like glue, and he could not be prouder of Dean for the love he shows his brother on a daily basis.

No matter what the world of darkness throws at them, Dean and Sam will be okay, as long as they have each other, and that’s all John’s ever wanted.


End file.
